


The Love Languages of Peter Dunville

by BloodAndRosesBitch



Series: DunBerg Love Languages [1]
Category: Two Guys a Girl and a Pizza Place
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pete is in love with Berg, from prompts, that is all thats the story, this is literally just the boys being in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29683425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodAndRosesBitch/pseuds/BloodAndRosesBitch
Summary: Basically I saw a post (this one: https://bakwaaas.tumblr.com/post/637629191731445760/ah-yes-the-five-love-languages-making-a-cup-of) on Tumblr about different love languages than those ones that everyone knows, and I'm soft so I wrote them! See tags. There's almost no plot, literally just Pete showing his love for Berg.
Relationships: Michael Bergen/Pete Dunville
Series: DunBerg Love Languages [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181276
Kudos: 2





	1. "making a cup of tea just how they like it"

**Author's Note:**

> Changed to coffee because it seemed more DunBerg-ish than tea!

Pete had gotten up early today, much earlier than usual, and had decided to try and make coffee. It was usually Berg's job, since he was the insomniac who was always drinking it, but Pete had figured it might be nice for him. Berg was sleeping this morning. Finally. They didn't own any kind of coffee maker, just a small black saucepan and a bag of ground coffee. Pete ran some tap water into it, and put it on the stove, turning the dial up to medium. Hopefully that would be hot enough. After it was boiling gently, he put in two tablespoons of their ground coffee, and then another two. He'd listened to Berg's many rants about how _exactly_ two tablespoons per cup was the perfect strength for the kind of coffee they bought, and anything less was a war crime. Pete had made sure to correct Berg almost everytime, that weak coffee was not a war crime, that was murdering children or stuff like that, which Berg had countered with the fact that you could actually kill children with weak coffee. Pete had then given up.

Pete turned off the heat and took the pan off the stove, sliding the lid in place. There was a soft creaking, and Pete looked up to see Berg, his hair haloed with morning light streaming in through the window, leaning against a doorframe, watching him. He smiled, and Pete smiled back. Pete moved the pot back onto the stove, bringing it to a boil for about ten seconds, then turned the stove off and removed the pan, stirring the coffee slightly. He waited while the coffee settled, then took the smallest strainer they had and two cups, pouring into them each gently as he could. He put the pot and the strainer in the sink, put the coffee grounds back in the fridge, and held out a cup to Berg. Berg approached him slowly, reminiscent of a feral city cat slinking, and took the mug.

They held each other's gazes warmly for a moment, then drank deeply.


	2. "peeling a tangerine and sharing the slices"

The brick walls of the college's cafeteria rose up around Berg like stone sentinels, guarding him from making connections with other people. He'd been here for almost a week, and had yet to meet any hot girls or guys who he wouldn't hate to be friends with. It was getting borderline unfair. If his brother were here, he'd say to give it some more time because it had literally only been four and a half days.

"But you aren't here, are you?" Berg muttered under his breath. "You've never been alone in your stupid life."

"What?" Berg jerked his head up and saw a vision. Or, maybe it was a human. An adorable human, at that. Short brown hair and wide, puppy-ish brown eyes, with an angular face and slim body, all dressed up in some button-down and chinos that looked like they had cost too much. College was the time to experiment, right? This kid looked like they were uptight, but those people were often the most fun to make not uptight. "Hey, you in there?" The human asked, waving a hand in front of Berg's face.

"Yeah! Yes. I said..." Berg glanced from the person's face, to the ground, and back up at them. "Wanna sit with me?"

They blinked. "Um, sure." They sat down, put a tangerine on the table, and stuck out their hand. "I'm Pete."

Berg shook it. "Berg."

Pete snorted. "After 'Iceberg'?" He began to peel his tangerine.

"Ha ha, no. My last name is Bergen. Just a nickname that stuck after a year or two."

Pete nodded, humming. "Of course. What's your first?"

"Michael. What's your last?"

"Dunville. Middle?"

Berg nearly choked on his soda. "I think we're getting ahead of ourselves here, Peter."

"Is it embarrassing?" Berg nodded. Pete laughed. "Mine too. Here," he said, suddenly handing Berg half of his peeled tangerine. "Mt. Dew isn't a very healthy lunch."

"Oh." Berg stared at the three slices for a moment, caught off guard by Pete's careless compassion. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Pete answered, grinning.


	3. "buying their favorite snack or drink when you see it randomly while shopping"

It was Pete's turn to go grocery shopping. He and Berg had been eating leftover pizza for two days and Sharon had finally convinced him that it was time to make a trip to the store. He'd swung by the Stop n' Shop off of Centre street. It was a big, bright store, fueled by anxious employees scuttling around the white floors and ceilings like the world might call it a day and implode if they stopped. He walked dutifully through the aisles, searching for a frozen meal or ten to hold them over until the next time when Berg would make his way to the store. Probably sometime next week.

An orange and white package caught his eye as he passed its shelf, and he turned back around to get another look. Goldfish (the crackers, not the animal). He smiled to himself and grabbed a bag. Berg loved them, for some reason.


	4. "making a warm meal and serving it in bed when they're sick"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coffee Shop AU time, folks! Pete is a high-powered, very stressed out white collar worker and Berg is a barista/college drop out with no sense of what he wants to do in the world. This'll probably turn into a whole story by itself once I finish IBAWWWYBH and 'tis the damn season, my other two ongoing fics.

Pete's phone rang cheerfully, and he nearly jumped out of his chair. He'd been waiting for a phone call all day from the CEO of the company he worked at, and this had to be it. He didn't know whether he was about to get chewed out or complimented, fired or promoted. Either one could be bad, depending on where the CEO promoted him to. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and picked up the handset.

"Hey baby," a stuffy, raw voice said. It was not the CEO.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Michael, I told you not to call me baby anymore. We're not... dating."

"I told you not to call me Michael, yet here we are."

"Fine," Pete sighed. "If you want to be called one half of an iceberg, that's on you, _Berg._ Why are you calling me at work?"

"I've fallen horribly ill."

Pete felt his annoyance soften. There was something special and sweet about this barista named Berg that always managed to affect him. "I can hear that."

"Will you bring me lunch during your break? I don't have any food at my apartment and I don't feel well enough to go out. I'll teach you how to make a killer pour over when I'm better."

"Yeah, of course. You're at the Hagerty building on Spade boulevard, right?"

"Yep! Number 116. The door'll be open for ya. Thanks, Pete. You're a doll."

Pete huffed. "I am not a doll. But, no problem. I'll be there at 11:15, sharp." He moved to hang up, then realized something. "Berg, you still there?"

"Yep."

"Won't teaching me how make a pour over lose you my business?"

Berg snorted as well as he could while congested. "Nah, I know you'll still buy it from us."

"How?"

"Well, I'm there, aren't I?"

* * *

Pete had grabbed two cartons of Orange Chicken from the Hy-Vee on his way over. As promised, the door was left open for him so he made his way inside, locking it once he had stood and stared properly at the living room of _the_ Michael Bergen who made his coffee every morning. It was messy, surprisingly large, and absolutely covered in post-it notes. The walls, desks. Somehow even the TV in the middle had a few scattered across it.

"Berg?" Pete called into the apartment. "I'm here!"

"In the bedroom," Berg's voice not-quite-shouted. Pete walked in. The bedroom was much the same, but (amazingly) messier.

"How're you feeling?"

"Pretty _and_ shitty."

Pete raised and eyebrow and handed one of the containers to Berg, who opened it immediately, disregarding the very idea of utensils, and dug in. He wolfed down the food at a pace which Pete couldn't help but watch. He always seemed spellbound when it came to this strange man. _What a weird thing,_ Pete thought as he sat on Berg's bed. _I've never felt like this before._


	5. "cutting up slices of fruit for them"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, I can't believe this is the last one! I might do another one of these kinds of stories sometime. Writing these were lots of fun!

Pete was standing in the kitchen, slicing up an apple. Yesterday night, Berg had admitted to the fact that he hadn't eaten fruit since he'd been home last summer. Naturally, Pete had taken the responsibility of feeding him something remotely healthy this morning. The air was cold against his bare skin, but if he wanted to have the apples ready for Berg by the time he was up there wasn't exactly time to get dressed fully. Boxers and a t-shirt wasn't a bad dress code around someone you'd seen almost completely naked multiple times, anyway (or at least that's what Pete tried to tell himself). He sliced the last apple in half, then in half again, then took the core out.

"Hey buddy, whatcha doin' up so early?" Berg's voice asked from behind him.

"Making you eat healthily," Pete replied, turning around and handing Berg an apple quarter. "I've cut them up. All you have to do is eat."

Berg regarded Pete for a moment, then the apple slice. Then he sighed. "Fine. But only because you put..." he got a disgusted look on his face, and shivered. "Actual time into it. Eugh!"

Pete laughed, and patted him on the shoulder. "Someday you might even understand why."


End file.
